


The Best Damn Cookies

by silentexplorer18



Category: Colby Brock - Fandom, Sam and Colby, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Bad Cooking, Emotional Comfort, F/M, Mild Language, Originally Posted on Tumblr, determined reader, emotional reader, kitchen disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18
Summary: You’re notoriously bad in the kitchen, and Colby often enjoys teasing you about it.  However, you’re determined to prove him wrong.
Relationships: Colby Brock/reader
Kudos: 11





	The Best Damn Cookies

Over the course of the year you’d been dating Colby, he’d learned pretty early on that you did _not_ excel in the kitchen. Although you tried your hardest, time and time again the apartment would be filled with a smokey smell and the charred remains of whatever concoction you’d been attempting to create.

The running joke with Colby and all of his friends was that you were a notoriously bad cook.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t _try_.

For months, you’d tried creating date night meals and treats for special occasions, but each time they seemed to end in disaster.

Like the time you’d cooked the potatoes wrong for your six month anniversary. They’d gone from potatoes to little black rocks in a catastrophic microwaving accident. Honestly, neither you nor Colby had the faintest idea how you’d managed to get the potatoes so completely solid. Regardless, your floor now had a rather impressive dent in it from where Jake had hurdled the spud in an attempt to break it open.

Another failed attempt was Colby’s birthday, when you tried to bake cupcakes. The batter had oozed out of the baking tray, burning the bottom of the oven and nearly catching the whole apartment on fire. There was no living that one down.

Your most teased about experiment had been the night you tried - and _obviously_ failed - to make tacos for the gang. The crispy black shells and smoking veggies had been the laughingstock of the evening. It was only slightly less mortifying than your attempt at redeeming yourself by creating homemade ice cream that had curdled and more accurately resembled scrambled eggs.

But you _tried_.

Despite everyone’s teasing, you tried to make nice things for your friends and boyfriend.

You just wanted to make something successfully. You wanted to bring them smiles when they saw you were able to do something nice for them, not hear them laugh at how much of a failure you were at cooking.

So as each opportunity arose to create treats, you gladly accepted the challenge.

Such an opportunity occurred when Colby was set to have a busy and stressful week working. First, he was traveling to the Witches Forest to film. Then he had some very important meetings about upcoming projects and afterwards needed to film with a few of his many friends. Finally, his week would conclude with a filming session with Elton and Corey in the morning followed by a long ass meeting. He was swamped.

You understood the chaos - the life of a YouTuber isn’t easy - and worked hard to make his experiences as manageable as possible. But that last day, you promised you’d make him cookies.

“Babe, just stop,” he sighed as Sam made sure to gather all his belongings so the two of them could go film. “I don’t want the apartment to be on fire when I come home.” Despite his protests, he held a mischievous glint in his eye. A challenge. He wanted you to make him cookies; your determination over the last few months to create a masterpiece had been absolutely adorable to him. For the most part, he wanted you to do well. However, there was a small part of him that knew that at the end of his long day, he would be aching for a good laugh, and your cooking catastrophes always provided ample humor.

“You just wait,” you shot back, grinning up at him as your wooden spoon worked the dough, “These will be the best damn cookies you’ve ever had.”

* * *

Unfortunately, hopes and dreams aren’t the only ingredients that go into concocting baked goods. Hands hanging limply from your sides in defeat, you stared at the wreckage that had become your kitchen. Raw dough was glooped across the counter in piles, stray flour and sugar coating every surface imaginable, and there was something distinctly sticky on the floor. Worst of all, your cookies were a disaster; half the tray was a mangled mess of charred remains, the other half oozing blobs of half baked dough.

You’d messed everything up again.

When the ding sounded through the apartment, a text from Colby with a warning that he’d be home in about 5 minutes, your determined resolve broke.

You’d failed.

Rinsing the flour off your hands, you ripped the apron off your figure, dropping it in a pile on the floor and wincing at the way your feet squelched as you made your way to the bedroom you shared with Colby. Collapsing on the floor toward the far edge of the bed, you curled into a ball, tears rolling down your flour crusted cheeks.

Everything was a disaster.

* * *

When Colby arrived home a few minutes later, he pushed open the door with a weary sigh, rubbing his face with his hands. The day had been exhausting, and he was so glad to be home. Whenever he would be out doing boring meetings or trying to meet tight deadlines, all he wanted was to race home and spend time with you.

He was gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie, curl up on the couch and cuddle.

Honestly, he’d completely forgotten about the cookies.

However, with one glance around the war zone that had become his kitchen, the memory of your promise of baked goods flooded through his mind.

The mess wasn’t all that alarming to him, nor were the piles of destroyed cookies littering the counter. However, what did concern him was the lack of, well, _you_. Whenever he came home to one of your catastrophes, you were always front and center, cleaning up the mess or trying to salvage morsels from the wreckage.

But you weren’t there.

Dropping his bags on the couch, he called out for you softly. “Baby?” You didn’t respond, tears still dripping down your cheeks as you tried to keep quiet, not wanting him to see you so upset over something as stupid as cookies. A few beats later, and he stepped into your bedroom, his soft voice echoing again, “Baby?” as he saw you curled up on the floor. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he murmured, settling on the floor beside you and pulling your body against his.

The action should have brought you comfort, but it just made you feel worse, mind whirling with how wrong the night was going. The only noise you could push from your chapped lips was a squeak before you started crying harder.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered into your hair, rubbing soothing patterns against your body. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just tell me what’s going on.”

After a few more moments, you were able to choke out, “I messed up the cookies.”

He chuckled despite himself, mind traveling back to the disaster he’d witnessed when he returned home. “It’s okay. I know you aren’t the best at cooking.”

“But I was supposed to make you cookies,” you blubbered out helplessly. “You had a bad day at work, and I was supposed to make cookies to make you feel better at the end of the day, and I messed it all up.”

Immediately, his arms pulled you against his chest as much as he could, enveloping you in his cuddles. “Shhh it’s okay. I feel better right now. Right here. With you. Cuddle me back, baby. It’ll make my day better.”

Nodding, you turned to snuggle your face into his chest, arms settling around his torso.

The two of you laid on the floor for about twenty minutes or so until your crying had subsided and you were nearly asleep against his warm chest. However, his nudging pulled you out of your trance. “Yeah, baby?” you hummed, eyes moving up to his excited ones.

“Let’s make cookies,” he whispered.

“I already tried, remember?”

With a big smile, he nudged you again. “No. Together. Let’s make cookies _together_.”

* * *

It took about three hours for the two of you to successfully clean the kitchen, make cookies, and clean the kitchen again while the cookies baked.

As Colby bent to pull the pan from the oven, you couldn’t help but cringe away in fear of whatever hideous creation could possibly come out. You had helped make them, after all.

Yet when you heard the distinct sound of the spatula scraping against the pan, you allowed your eyes to blink open, gazing in shocked glee at the delightful little cookies Colby was shoveling onto a plate.

Victory.

With bright eyes, you glanced up to meet his gaze, grinning at the toothy smile that was plastered across his own face. “Shall we try them?”

Slowly, you each reached for a cookie, both biting into the circles of goodness. The taste was amazing; really, this was probably the best cookie you’d ever had. Looking back up at Colby again, you queried, “Whatcha think?”

With a giant smile, he shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth, crunching it before answering your question. “Best damn cookie I’ve ever had.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return as you both reached for seconds. “I’ve gotta agree with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://silentexplorer18.tumblr.com/).


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